


startle

by big_daddy_dio



Category: Original Work
Genre: Amputation, Blood and Torture, Gen, Gutting, No Plot/Plotless, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:48:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25411882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/big_daddy_dio/pseuds/big_daddy_dio
Summary: the sound of a bell chimes around him, bringing him from his deep sleep and piercing sharply into his aching brain.where was he?





	startle

**Author's Note:**

> horror story I wrote for a class, publishing here for reference reasons

Elliot awakens with a jerk. 

The sound of a bell chimes around him, bringing him from his deep sleep and piercing sharply into his aching brain. He goes to reach for his head, and he’s surprised when he finds his arms cannot be moved. He groans, turns his head to the side. His eyesight is blurry, but he can make out the shapes of the room - white, stained walls, saws and other various tools hanging from the wall, and the most disturbing of all - carcasses, both human and animal. His stomach drops into a painful ache, and he looks down to his own predicament. He’s bound by dull-colored leather restraints, pale flesh bare to the coldness of the room, and the sight only makes him more sick. 

Where was he?

He doesn’t know. If fact, his mind is a groggy mess, and he can’t even remember the last thing he had done before waking up. He remembered waking up and having breakfast, leaving his apartment, and walking to his office. But what about after that? The effort of thought makes his brain throb even more. 

He sighs, and tries to pull at his restraints. They’re tight, painfully so, and he can’t help the feeling of dread that accompanies the realization that he’s  _ stuck. _ Stuck in this hell of a place, surrounded by death. Was this a nightmare? No, he concludes, he wasn’t that lucky. 

He’s startled by the sound of footsteps, heavy and slow. He has to lift his head up to look in the direction they’re coming from, a darkened hallway, and he feels fear he has never experienced before. The sound gets louder, the person gets closer, closer, and closer - until he’s greeted by the sight of a man. Tall, athletic build, soft blonde locks of hair that frame his pale face in curls, and striking blue eyes. He’d almost be beautiful if not for the blood stained apron he wore. He can practically feel the bile rising up his throat. 

The man speaks, “Oh, you’re finally awake.” and his voice is soft, but he can hear the humor behind it. He approaches him, and Elliot has to look away from the knife the man held before he actually threw up. It’s short lived, however, when he feels the coolness of the blade against his cheek, and his head is turned back and he’s forced to look up at his captor. The man smiled down at him, and he can’t help the choked back sob that escapes him. Was he crying? His question is answered when the man reaches up and wipes away the hot tears that streamed down his flushed cheeks. 

“Oh, darling, don’t cry!” he cooed down at him, but it’s not comforting. “We’re just gonna have some fun, ‘kay? I ain’t gonna hurt you too bad!” he laughs, and takes a step back. Elliot stares up at him with watery eyes. His cheeks already feel warm and puffy.

The man brings up his knife, the light from the room reflecting off of it’s sharp blade, and makes no haste in pressing it down against his pale skin. All Elliot can do is bite his lip and watch as it’s pressed deeper and deeper, deep enough to pierce and bring a trickle of warm, maroon blood to the surface, watch as it’s dragged down his chest until it reached his stomach. 

The feeling was horrendous. It was a burning, sickening feeling, and he felt his stomach turn violently in protest. His body jerks with the pain, and he tugs against his restraints in hopes of breaking free. 

But his captor doesn’t seem to like this very well. 

“Stop struggling.” The man commands, voice no longer that soft, calm voice it was just minutes before. But he can’t help the way his body shakes in pain, he can’t help the tears that stream down. 

The man sighs, and presses the knife deeper in. This time Elliot cries out in pain, and his captor beams down at him once more. 

He felt the way the blade entered his flesh, breaking it apart. Felt the way the man presses deeper and deeper until the blade was fully submerged. Felt the way the instrument sliced apart and forced its way into his soft organs. He screamed, but he knew there was no one but this man to hear him. 

The man stepped back, leaving the blade tucked nicely into his stomach, and left Elliot’s sight momentarily. When he came back, Elliot couldn’t hold back the bile that came up this time, and turned his head to vomit off to the side. The sight of this beautiful man, covered in cooling blood and who knows what else, carrying a saw and a decaying leg was too much - he wished he could wake up from this nightmare already. 

But he knew it wasn’t a dream. 

He knew it when he felt the saw press right underneath his knee.

Knew it when the man forced the saw to pierce his flesh, digging down in deep, ripping him apart. 

Knew when the saw connected to bone, and he found himself unable to scream any louder. 

Knew it when finally sawing stopped, and both he and his captor were covered in his blood. 

Knew it when the decaying leg was pressed against his raw wound, and his captor left, only to come back with a needle and string. 

Knew when the needle pierced his abused flesh, and connected his living flesh to that of the decaying leg.

He never wished for death until that moment. 


End file.
